


Pales in Comparison

by OneThreateningAcronym



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: 5+1 Things, Accidental Flirting, Existential Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, More tags to be added, Multi, Nightmares, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, a bastardization of 5+1, its diamonds all the way down, lowykey meta, purely self indulgent, this fic is all moirails y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22793410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneThreateningAcronym/pseuds/OneThreateningAcronym
Summary: Expecting an alien to have a full grasp of your convoluted romance system and the social expectations therein is asking quite a lot.Moirallegiance, in particular, can be a little hard to nail down.
Relationships: Boldir Lamati/MSPA Reader, Chixie Roixmer/MSPA Reader, Galekh Xigisi/MSPA Reader, Lynera Skalbi/MSPA Reader, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Polypa Goezee/MSPA Reader
Comments: 96
Kudos: 154





	1. Polypa - A Side

**Author's Note:**

> Me: haha, you know, "pales in comparison" would make a great name for a fic centered on moirails
> 
> -beat-
> 
> Me: SHIT. FUCK. GODDAMIT. WHAT HAVE I DONE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: haha, you know, "pales in comparison" would make a great name for a fic centered on moirails
> 
> -beat-
> 
> Me: SHIT. FUCK. GODDAMIT. WHAT HAVE I DONE.

Rain slices through the air like acid through metal.

It helps that, on Alternia, the rain IS acid. And it’s fucking pouring outside. Luckily from where you’re standing at the mouth of the cave you’re completely sheltered and have a beautiful view of the apocalypse Alternia calls ‘weather’. It boggles your mind that your squishy human body is probably the only thing on this planet that this rain can hurt. Seriously, what the fuck, Alternia? Why is EVERYTHING out to kill you?

“Hey.”

Well, almost everything.

You turn around. You are 61.20% positive that at this point in your friendship Polypa won’t kill you or leave you for dead. Heck, she trusted you enough to bring you back to where she lives and not a hideout! Knowing that information alone is enough of a death sentence from someone in her line of work and, frankly, you’re incredibly touched she trusted you with the information. It makes your head go all fuzzy just thinking about it.

Polypa, with purpose, walks over, grabs your hand, and pulls you away from the mouth of the cave. “You’re gonna fry your pan breathing in all the fumes outside. You can get away with that in the city, but you can’t out here in the wilds.”

Oh yup your nose is burning. Eyes are also burning. How about that. You gratefully thank Polypa as she leads you deeper into the caves and away from the death outside her doorstep.

You were both surprised and very not surprised to find out that Polypa lives in a cave in the middle of nowhere. 

On the one hand, you know she rakes in pretty mad cash as an assassin for hire because you have seen the price tags on a few of her anime figurines. You expected she probably had a nice, cozy hive tucked somewhere nondescript. On the other hand you also know that she’s constantly on the run for not only being an assassin, but for ALSO having a dead lusus. A nice hive in the city somewhere would be too constrictive and obvious for her vagabond lifestyle.

And, to be fair, the cave somehow totally has electricity. You can’t imagine it’s THAT bad living here.

Polypa’s cave reminds you a lot like her: it has all the essential a young troll needs for basic survival with very little standing out, and it’s got a high wall filled with anime and weaponry. The usual, really. She’s made use of most of the natural ledges and filled them with photographs. Some are old, a little yellowed with age and ash with a younger, happier troll frozen in time within. Most of them are more recent pictures of her and Tegiri and even more recently, you. 

Polypa leads you to a couch in front of a small television and shoves you onto it. The couch, not the television. She kneels in front of you. “How many touch stubs am I holding up?”

You squint at her hand, watch as the room stops swimming out of the corner of your eye, and report that she is holding up 3 fingers. Touch stubs. Whatever they are, she is holding them.

She gives a nod of satisfaction and sits down on the sofa next to you. “Sorry for keeping you out so late. This storm was supposed to miss us,” she says, a scowl pulling at her lips. “Should have known better. Gorecaster’s are wrong half the time anyways.”

You tell her that it’s no problem at all! You’re grateful more than anything that you have such a nice place to stay for the day and you don’t have to walk back to your buggy in the rain. The awful, skin melting, death inducing rain. You stretch out comfortably on the couch to further prove your point. She raises an eyebrow at you.

“If you say so,” she says instead of the dozen or so things you know she was thinking. “But just so you know, I only have one recupracoon and I’m not planning on sharing.”

Oh, what, does she REALLY think you’re going to try and go for that old romance trope? 

You’re totally fine just crashing on her couch for the day. You tell her as much and ensure her you don’t plan on encroaching on her personal space like that. Besides, what’s the point of sleeping in gross slime it doesn’t actually benefit you at all? Polypa stares at you for a second. A little longer than appropriate, you think, but who are you to judge? Eventually she seems satisfied by your answer and stands up from the couch. You watch her walk the short distance to her anime collection.

She pulls something off the shelf, quickly scans the back, and turns back to you with a smile. “Wanna watch cringey 90s anime until sunrise?”

HELL. YES.

Unfortunately you fall asleep before the first episode even reaches the end credits.

Damn it.

* * *

**CRASH**

**BOOM**

You fall off of Polypa’s couch with a start. You struggle fruitlessly on the ground to untangle yourself the blankets coiled around your legs until, finally, you’re free and able to alien roll away from your fluffy captor. You almost hit the coffee table. Almost. You stand and look around the cave frantically, still half asleep. It’s near pitch black in here with the lights off. What the fuck was happening? Had the drones finally come for both of you? Was it Her Imperial Condescension herself, here to tell you off for fucking around on her planet? 

There’s a flash outside bright enough to nearly blind you. Moments later, thunder ROARS above your head and through your bones. A picture actually falls off of one of Polya’s shelves and you hear the glass in the frame crack.

Ah.

The storm got worse while you were sleeping. Cool. Fantastic. Just absolutely wonderful. Alternia really just can’t do anything halfway, can it? The weight of this planet’s typical bullshit pushes a hefty, tired sigh out of you. You’re in the process of turning back to the couch to try and go back to sleep when you hear it.

It’s quiet. Muffled, especially by the ringing in your ears and the drone of the rain. But just a little deeper into the cave you hear it.

Whimpering.

A choice lays before you. Do you go back to sleep? Or do you follow the sound deeper into the cave?

Swallowing your anxiety you decide to press forward.

You immediately walk right into the table you had so far managed to avoid and crack your knee on a corner.

It takes every ounce of your self control not to yelling. You grit your teeth and bear it, figure out where the table is, and step around it. 

Your trek to the back of the cave is a slow one. Your memory of Polypa’s home is sketchy at best. Unlike trolls you don’t exactly have night vision; you pause and get your bearings by the light of lightning strikes that are just infrequent enough to leave you scrambling in the dark between bolts. Your eyes never truly adjust to the darkness. Swirls of colors burned into your retinas by the storm leave you jumping at nothing more times than you’d care to admit. The entire journey feels like it takes much, much longer than it should have. Or maybe that's just your perception of time and all the stress making it seem that way.

You finally reach a room in the back of the cave where the whimpering is loudest and the lightning can’t reach. Luckily you aren’t going in completely blind. The room is lit by a faint, green-ish glow emanating from the back corner of the room. The light of a recupracoon, to be precise. Something in your gut sinks.

You make your way over to the recupracoon with slow, measured steps. You have absolutely no doubt where that sound is coming from and you would hate to end up dead because she woke up thinking you were a threat. Getting to the top of the ‘coon when you actually reach it is a different story. There’s no ladders or stairs, just the exterior to climb up.

And so climb up it you do. You scuttle up that recupracoon like you were born on this bug themed planet yourself and reach the top like it ain’t no thing. You peer over the lip of it.

And there you see Polypa in the faint, green hue cast by the sopor slime, writhing in her sleep.

Your heart pangs in sympathy.

You realize with a sudden clarity that you did not plan this far in advance and have no idea what to do next. You were under the impression that sleeping in gross slime was supposed to prevent nightmares. If Polypa is having a nightmare while up to her nose in the stuff, it has to be a nasty one, right? You can’t just _leave_ her like that. Will she kill you if you wake her up though? You feel like there is an absurdly high chance that she will kill you if you wake her up right now. You are pretty sure that waking her up would be the thing that finally kills you on this planet. Anxiety and indecision pulse through you. You’re torn between your natural inclination to be helpful and your lizard brain telling you not to die.

In her sleep, Polypa whimpers.

And for an instant you’re back on Earth. You’re younger, so much younger and you’re crying. And someone is running a comforting hand through your hair.

Unthinkingly, unsteadily you reach down and set your hand on Polypa’s head.

You freeze upon contact, waiting for her to wake up and rip your arm off, but she doesn’t. So gently, oh so gently, you press your luck and run your fingers across her scalp. Troll hair feels nothing like human hair, but you card your fingers through it all the same. You carefully smooth some of the slimy lumps out of Polypa’s hair and you whisper to her. She’s fine, she’s safe, it’s ok.

And against every single odd on this godforsaken planet it works. Polypa calms down in small increments. You whisper tiny encouragements and you tell her about your day, about your other friends, about Earth. Really, you just don’t stop talking. You're practically just babbling any little thing that comes to mind. You keep a constant rhythm with your hand in her hair way past the point where your arm is nothing but pins and needles. Slime sticks to you up to your elbow.

The whimpering stops. The creases in her face smooth, bit by bit by bit, until all of the muscles in her face finally relax. A tiny rumbling starts somewhere deep in her chest and she leans towards your hand in her sleep. The picture of her, right here right now, will be one you keep close to your heart perhaps for the rest of your probably short life.

Outside the storm continues to rage.

At some point you fall asleep just like that. The remnants of a half-whispered sweet nothing on your lips and your hand buried in Polypa’s wiry hair.

You’re back on the couch when you next wake up. A perfect scene transition. You’re under a small pile of blankets and pillows and faintly, very faintly, you hear the sizzling of something meaty on top of a stove. Sleep clings to your tired limbs. The rain has stopped and there’s a beam of moonlight slowly rising into view. How on Earth did you get here?

“You’re awake.”

You crane your neck awkwardly towards the voice. You find Polypa there in her tiny, makeshift kitchen with breakfast cooking away. She’s already fully dressed and her hair is up in a lazy ponytail. Voice hoarse with sleep you greet her warmly and inform her that you are, in fact, awake. Polypa blushes and turns back to the stove.

“Go back to sleep. Breakfast won’t be ready for a while yet and you had a long night,” she tells you bluntly.

Not as long of a night as she did, you shoot back.

Polypa tenses, almost imperceptibly. “...I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You sit up and bring half the pile of blankets with you. You’re still practically cocooned. You do your best to shrug though. It wasn’t that big of a deal. You really just hope she’s feeling better.

Still, Polypa doesn’t turn around to look at you. “You didn’t have to do what you did, you know.”

Huh?

“I woke up for a little bit,” Polypa flips an egg on her skillet. Probably an egg. Maybe not an egg. “Just long enough to realize I’d been dreaming and to be scared. But you were there.”

The air goes still. There’s a tension, a tension you’re a little too alien to be able to grasp. You apologize instead for invading her privacy. You just couldn’t leave her like that.

Silence stretches on for a few minutes after that. Polypa continues making breakfast and you drift in and out of sleep on the couch. On some level you think you should be helping her out. On every single other level you are very warm and sleepy and nothing is going to pry you from that except for death.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you’re startled back to lucidity by Polypa plopping down next to you on the sofa. She offers you a plate of food. Suddenly ravenous you reach out of your pile of comfort and snatch it from her without a word and begin shoveling food into your mouth. Polypa stares at you, eyes wide in shock. And then she laughs. It’s a short, simple, incredulous laugh, but it’s the first one you’ve ever heard out of her.

“That was the best night of sleep I’ve had in awhile,” Polpya tells you after you’ve inhaled about half your plate. “So… thank you.”

You flop your cocooned body into her shoulder. She doesn’t have to thank you, she’ll never have to thank you. You’re just doing what anyone else would do.

She chews on that for all of about a second. “If you say so,” Polypa says instead of the dozen or so things you know she was thinking. She wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close. You carefully extract yourself just enough to throw a blanket over her and induct her into the comfort pile. Polypa goes _bright_ green, but she doesn’t say anything. So you don’t either. You have no idea what’s happening here and you don’t want to ruin the moment with your big, stupid mouth.

“Can I… Can I tell you?” Polpya asks, quiet as a mouse. “About my dream?”

You nod against her shoulder. Haltingly, Polypa begins to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In Which A Culturally Ignorant Alien Can't Resist Their Natural Instinct To Accidentally Pale Flirt With Every Person They Meet And Everyone Involved Catches Feelings"
> 
> Welcome to the start of whatever this is! I've had this in the works for quite a bit, but I finally just got really impatient and decided to start posting it. It's a bit of a 5+1 type of fic, but also not quite because there's more than 5 and also plus more than 1. It's more like a cassette tape with an A side and a B side. A side is MSPA accidentally flirting, B side is the troll involved sincerely flirting. B sides are after we get through the A-sides.
> 
> It's not the whole cast of trolls that I'll be doing for this. That's a lot and I don't ship everybody pale. However, you can expect to find Polypa (natch), Chixie, Skylla, Galekh, Tyzias, Stelsa, Boldir, Lynera, and Tagora in no particular order in the future.
> 
> I plan on (hopefully) updating once a week. Everybody is either written or drafted for all the Side As, so fingers crossed. Hope you enjoyed!


	2. Chixie - A Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I know anything about makeup? No. Did I do any research about make-up while writing this? Probably not enough!

The heavy bass of the club thrums in your chest. It isn’t so much _loud_ as it is **powerful**. Even where you are backstage, on the opposite side of the speakers, you can feel each vibration as it jostles your ribs and threatens to permanently damage your hearing. You’re shocked everything in the dressing room hasn’t been knocked from its shelves.

But you are on a mission and by gum if you’ve ever let your feeble little human body stop you.

Chixie jolts forwards and gawks at you, “He _didn’t._ ”

You pull back to ensure you don’t accidentally stab Chixie in the eye with an eyebrow pencil. As she settles back into her seat aghast you inform her that, _yeah, he super did_. He said it with the straightest, sincerest face you have ever seen someone say something completely wrong with. The entire experience of befriending Zebruh Codak seems like a weird fever dream in comparison to every other troll you’ve met. Until you begin explaining it to literally anyone who’s met him.

“God, he’s such a tool,” Chixie takes the words right out of your mouth. 

You set the eyebrow pencil down and look at your work so far. 

When Chixie DM’d you out of the blue and asked if you would be her +1 to another show, you’d said yes before she even finished asking the question. When it turned out she needed your help more than she specifically needed your company, well, you were beyond flattered to be the first person she thought of.

And when you had arrived to meet her in front of a very nice, very classy, very **indigo** and above club you understand why she wanted some backup. 

This was a BIG opportunity for her. 

It was also terrifying. You were terrified. Chixie was absolutely scared out of her mind. She was nothing but stock photo smiles until you’d gotten into her dressing room. At which point she shoved her face into the nearest pillow and started swearing. Loudly and colorfully. That’s about how you got to where you were now: what better way to settle some nerves than a friendly makeover and gossip? Did you have any idea what you were doing? Mostly not! Lucky for you GrubTube was FULL of makeup tutorials.

...But for the most part you were still fucking winging it.

It worked for you most of the time.

Finished with her eyebrows you carefully put the pencil back and grab some bronze-y eyeliner. You pop the cap off with your thumb and flinch when it flies off and rolls somewhere under the vanity. Whoops. Chixie laughs quietly and the sweet sound of it soothes your soul.

“We’ll hunt it down later, don’t worry about it,” she assures you. 

You nod and try and mentally prepare yourself for your next task. You have absolutely no idea why Chixie trusted you to do this or why you even offered to in the first place. The most you learned about Alternian makeup and fashion was from Stelsa. But here you are and here Chixie is, letting you poke around her face with pointy objects. You suck in a breath and get to it. 

In your personal opinion Chixie’s eyes are her biggest charm point next to her rarely seen, sincere smiles. The makeup around her eyes is going to need to be perfect in order to compliment them. You motion for Chixie to tilt her head up and gently, very gently, begin tracing underneath what a human would call the waterline. 

You don’t know what trolls call it. 

Probably something weird, like gander seam or event horizon or moisture wall. 

Chixie shuffles a little in her seat and you unthinkingly grasp her cheek in your free hand to steady her. She blushes. You blush. You power through and you don’t remove your hand.

“I wanted to thank you again for coming tonight,” Chixie says as the silence between the two of you begins to stretch. You assure her it was no problem at all. You studiously finish with the eyeliner and blindly reach over to grab her eyeshadow. You gently press the shimmery powder to her eyelids completely In The Zone. Damn, you’ve got this SO hard. 

Chixie clenches and unclenches her hands in her laps. “I really, really appreciate it. It’s… it’s probably pretty silly, actually,” she trails off. 

You pull back from Chixie a little to gauge your work. You don’t think it’s silly at all, you inform her seriously. You’ve been on Alternia long enough. You understand the hemospectrum, mostly. You would want backup if you were in her shoes too. Literally anyone in your corner. 

That was apparently not quite the right thing to say. Chixie reaches out and grabs both of your hands when you lean back in to work on her other eye. You almost drop the little eyeshadow applicator in surprise and you look up at Chixie in confusion. Her face is set in a serious, no nonsense frown as she stares at you. The blush on her face is more prominent, now, and you can very lightly feel her claws digging into your wrist.

“I was planning on turning this concert down,” she mumbles quietly, so quietly that if it weren’t for your close proximity you don’t think you’d have heard it over the music. “I thought, what would the point even be? I would get here and the same old story would play out.” 

Her grip tightens on you, just a little, and then goes completely slack. Just holding you tiredly as she talks. Chixie, you note, has _very_ warm hands.

“I would get here, I would get ready to go on stage, and something bad would happen. Something bad always happens,” her eyes bore into your very soul. With a slow, soft smile, Chixie says, “The only exception was the night you were there.”

Oh.

Oh wow, gosh, is it hot in here or is it just the blush that charged onto your face? You have no idea what to say to that.

“I remembered how it felt to charge onto the stage and how great it felt to stand up for myself for once. You gave me a push I didn't know I needed…" Chixie smiles at you; small, shy, and sincere. "I didn’t come to the city to be a coward, I came here to be heard. You helped me remember that. The worst anyone here can do is kill me. ” 

You very politely ask Chixie not to die tonight. Or even joke about it for that matter. Just imagining it makes you nauseous.

Chixie laughs again; a bittersweet sound with a fond, indulgent smile. She rolls her eyes dramatically and lets go of your dominant wrist. “I wasn’t planning on it. That’s why I wanted you to be here,” Chixie admits. She gently pats you on the cheek. “You’re like my lucky charm. My weird, fashionably incompetant, alien lucky charm.”

That might just be the nicest compliment you’ve received since landing on Alternia.

“I don’t doubt it,” she pats your cheek again before fully letting you go, her hands returning to her lap. “I just wanted to make things clear between us. No misunderstandings.”

Everything is crystal clear, you tell her. So clear in fact that you actually have no idea what was unclear in the first place. Not a clue in the world.

“Good. ...You can finish doing my makeup, by the way. I didn’t mean to make you stop.”

You squeak out an apology and get back to work with shakier hands, but an oddly warm and steady feeling in your chest. You’re done faster than you expected to be and put a finishing touch of bright red lipstick on Chixie’s lips.

You carefully come around Chixie to swing the chair back towards the mirror. You can’t help but smile a little at your handiwork. It wasn’t anything extravagant and it certainly wouldn’t get you millions of internet views. Not by a long shot. You like it, though.

You nervously ask Chixie what she thinks.

She leans forward in the chair and stares at her reflection. Her expression is critical, appraising, and immediately all you can think of is how you could have done better.

But finally, after a moment, Chixie’s face softens and she catches your eyes in the mirror. “It’s not a look I would have thought to go with,” she says. “But I like it.”

You sag with relief. In the mirror, Chixie grins.

“And SHE is going to hate it.”

Wait. She? Who’s she?

Chixie spins in the chair to face you. Her smile is mischievous, a look you don’t ever think you’ve seen on her. You’re learning new things about your friends every day, you guess!

“Do you remember the band that stole my set? When we met?” You nod. “Do you remember their lead singer? The cerulean?” Again, you nod, even though the memory itself is foggy at best.

“She’s here tonight,” she glances away from you, seeming oddly embarrassed.

...Ok?

Chixie blushes and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ve been… flirting, a little bit, on Chittr. Since then. Pitch.”

You do a very quick scan of all the Alternian lingo you’ve picked up. 

_Oh._

Ok, you say again, understanding. 

She meets your eyes again with a sheepish smile, “The other reason I wanted you here. I really kind of want this to work. I stupidly, stupidly want this to work.”

You kneel down and take Chixie’s hands in yours. You look up at her and muster the most serious face you can pull off. You tell Chixie you’ll be there to back her up no matter what happens. With the concert, with this girl, with whatever. You will BE there.

Chixie smiles a watery smile and you see tiny, tinted brown tears creeping at the corners of her eyes. She stands up on legs that wobble from how long she’s been sitting and she hugs you, “I know,” she says.

And for a second on this awful, awful planet you feel comfortable and safe. Like maybe, despite the murder and the carnage and the death, things could get better. Things could go your way. You’ve found many kindred souls on your journey to discover every FRIENDSHIP this planet has to offer. But there’s something about Chixie; her drive and her dreams, her warmth and her fury, her courage and resolve. She’s got a special place in your heart. You try not to pick favorites among your friends, but if you did…

Well…

You aren't going to dwell on that thought.

The show goes off without a hitch. It’s not anything spectacular. Chixie sings a few pre-selected, pro-highblood songs. Her voice is gorgeous and her stage presence is irresistable. The drunk highbloods are entertained. Everyone claps and no murders are attempted. It’s really boring when all’s said and done. Despite the stress and rigmarole the night was rife with Chixie meets back up with you after her set and she is _beaming_ . She hugs you within a inch of your life and thanks you for just _being_ there.

Later at the after party you see her sneaking out with a cerulean girl you almost recognize.

Chixie catches you watching and she winks.

You give her an encouraging thumbs up.

You are SO proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chixie is the best and deserves the whole entire wORLD DON'T @ ME.
> 
> I'm kidding. Please 100% @ me and tell me who your favorite Friendsim troll is. Chixie and Boldir are tied for first place in my heart. Mallek, Tyzias, and Polypa are all tied for second. Choosing favorites is HARD.
> 
> Sorry this went up a little late today. Chixie was meant to go up a little later, but I got mad at the chapter for today while I was editing and scrapped half of it. This is your daily reminder to be gentle with yourself and not to force your brain to do things when it's not in the mood! Thanks for reading!


	3. Galekh - A Side

_ clickity-clack-clack-click-click-clack-clack-click- _

The drone of tapping keys fills your ears. Galekh’s hive has always instilled an odd kind of peace in you; your butt in a comfy chair, a warm cup of joe in your hands, and a roaring fireplace never failed to iron out the ever-present tension you carried with you. It was nice to just sit and listen to him work. He didn’t need your input on anything, or need you to make any life changing choices for him usually. He just liked having someone else in the room while he worked.

And you really enjoy being that person.

_ R-i-i-i-i-i-p! _

Tonight, though. Tonight you had a feeling things were going to go a little bit differently. For the umpteenth time this evening Galekh rips the page he was writing out of his typewriter, crumples it into a ball, and tosses it into the growing pile beside his desk. Goatdad was going to have a field day tonight when he inevitably managed to break in. 

Galekh’s been struggling with this particular part of his manuscript since before you got here and made yourself comfortable. That had been several hours ago.

You set your cup of coffee down gently on a coaster.

You rise from the leather bound chair and you stretch your arms as high above your head as you can until you feel something crack.

You check your phone to make sure there isn’t a murder spree happening in town and then you slip your phone back into your hoodie pocket.

It’s time to do what you do best.

_ Make an ass out of yourself. _

You take an exaggerated, meandering path around the office before you make your way to Galekh’s desk. You stop at a nearby bookshelf and peruse a few of the titles in his personal collection, the ones he doesn’t just set out to impress guests. You stop at the fireplace to toss another log in and watch the embers explode upwards before falling back to their homes. You take an extra moment to look outside the room and make sure that 1) goatdad is doing alright and 2) the wiggler gates are all secure. Goatdad baas at you warmly. You baa back. It's a very meaningful conversation.

But all journeys, especially pointless ones, must come to an end. You arrive at Galekh’s desk with very little fanfare and find that a mass of tense muscles seems to have replaced him. He’s so absorbed in his typing you don’t think he actually notices you. Which, wow, rude? You see how it is. You eyeball the small hill of garbage next to his desk thoughtfully. You dismiss the thought. Annoying, but not annoying enough. You could throw those at him all night and you don’t think he would even look up from his work.

You actually know he wouldn’t look up because you tried that one night when you were bored and made a game out of how many you could toss through his horns like a football. But, eh, semantics.

_ Click-click-clack-clack-click-clickity-clack-clack-clickity-clack-clack- _

You know what you must do. 

You close your eyes and channel your inner TwinklePaw; you feel the cosmos laid out before your pawstruts and the limitlessness of infinity expanding across your ocular receptors. Your pusher beats in time with the movements of the galaxy. You are a  _ prime _ example of what the starcaste is meant to be, to become. Your ability to strategize and come up with plans on the fly has been a boon to your fellow purrbeasts. You are infallible. You are unstoppable.

With a grace you will never, ever recapture again in your entire life you climb on top of Galekh’s desk and lay directly on top of his typewriter.

It makes SEVERAL sounds of protest as it’s buttons jab into your stomach.

Galehk makes a number of similar noises. None of them are intelligible for several seconds as he tries to string together the words to ask you what the FUCK you think you’re doing. You shuffle yourself around on his typewriter a bit and make yourself comfortable. You proceed to fuck up the document in the paper rest even more. You can hear the teeth in Galehk’s jaw straining as he grinds his teeth in barely restrained fury.

“What,” he bites out, “do you think you are doing?”

You roll on your side to meet Galekh’s seething gaze, feeling  _ and _ hearing the keys beneath your body go  **krshsks-krink-krrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr** under your weight, and you raise an eyebrow at your friend. What  _ ever _ could he mean?

A vein just to the side of his left eye begins to pulse visibly. Galekh is trying so hard not to lose his cool. It’s hilariously amazing to watch. “You know exactly what I mean. There is absolutely no way that you do not know exactly what I am talking about. It would be in both of our best interests if you dropped the act of ignorance now. I am on a deadline. You know this. I know this. This needs to be perfect. You are going to extract yourself from my keyboard immediately before I extract you myself.”

Nah.

Galehk’s face scrunches up, adorably appalled, “I beg your-”

_ Naaaaaaaaaaaaah. _ The wooden desk you’re on top of whines; not because of anything you’re doing, but because Galehk is digging his claws into it with enough force you’re actually a little lowkey worried he might break it. You suddenly remember your good friend here could kill you with his thumb, if he so desired, and get away with your murder. He wouldn’t, but he could. Maybe you need to turn it down a couple of notches. You’ve got his attention. That’s all you were after.

You tell Galekh he needs to take a break.

He squints at you over the top of his glasses, “That does not begin to explain why you have laid yourself upon my antique, one-of-a-kind, exceptionally hard to repair typewriter.”

You didn’t know how else to get his attention.

Galekh opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again, seems like he’s going to say something, and then closes his mouth again. He purses his lips for several seconds and stares at you like he’s waiting for you to drop the punchline. This wars visibly on his face with the fact that he knows you are absolutely serious. He squints at you like he can’t believe how much of an actual, straight up dumbass you are. 

Finally he lets out a heavy, frustrated sigh and sags into his office chair in defeat. “Alright. You have my full attention. Please explain your reasoning as to why you believe I am in need of a break when this draft is due to be on my editor’s desk by tomorrow evening.”

Do you have to cite your sources?

A tiny twitch, just on the corner of his lips. Not a laugh, not a smile, but close. “Only if you feel they’re necessary.”

Cool. Can he help get you off of his typewriter first? You’re actually kind of stuck and you don’t want to risk potentially breaking it for realsies.

_ That _ gets a very small smile out of him. He steeples his hands in his lap. “What  _ ever _ could you mean? You seem perfectly fine where you are, in my astute opinion.”

Really?

Galekh raises an eyebrow at you, patiently waiting for you to begin your explanation. Ugh,  _ fine,  _ maybe you deserve that for being the one to climb up here in the first place. It's fine, you can work with this. You thrust out the arm that isn't being sandwiched underneath you and flex your fingers. 

1! He is not making any progress and hasn't been for several hours.

"That isn't true-"

You gesture to the paper pile LITERALLY right next to him and do your very best impression of Tyzias' 'are you serious?' face. Galekh looks at it, looks at you, and sulks deeper into his chair.

That's that, then.

2! Beating his head against the wall is not going to solve his writer's block. In fact, it is liable to hinder the writing process further down the line by tiring him out prematurely. 

You pause to let him interject if he feels the need. Galekh does not. The gracious host he is he does not interrupt you again and instead watches you with a careful facade of neutrality.

You press on.

3! It's almost time to feed his lusus.

Off in the distance, Goatdad bleats in agreement. You bleat back. Galekh rolls his eyes.

And 4!

...You don't like seeing him stressed out and think a break would do him some good. Personally. Burn-out is real and both ends of his candle are on fire. You're not even sure if Alternia has candles or what an equivalent to the word would be, but he needs to trust you on this. He should take a break.

And thus your case is said. You hold out your hand and its four extended fingers towards Galekh and wait patiently as he processes your arguments. You wonder if you're allowed to cite the bags under his eyes. You feel like you should have listed five things for the full impact of an entire hand's worth of evidence. A missed opportunity. All of your teal friends are judging you, in spirit.

Before you can go too far down THAT self-depreciative rabbit hole Galekh does you a solid and stands up from his chair. Like the gentlest of giants he carefully gets his hands under your armpits and lifts you off his desk with an enviable finesse. Like, goddamn, do you even weigh anything to him?

"No, lifting you is like lifting a bag of grapes," Galekh informs you. Ow, your self-esteem. "And for the record the Alternian word for candle is candle."

...Okay. Good to know. You thank him for filling in that gap in your knowledge. Galekh is still holding you straight out in front of him like you’re biohazardous material, but it’s actually pretty nice to be able to look him in the eyes for once. Galekh raises a suspicious eyebrow at you for the extended eye contact. All you can really do is answer him with a sheepish smile. You’ve learned to find joy in all the little things in Alternia. It’s a hard thing to explain.

“Anyways,” Galekh decides he’s not going to question your weird, alien behavior today, “I do not necessarily agree with your observations and find them to be heavily biased. However. It is very clear that seeing me struggle is causing you to worry an undue amount on my behalf and I… appreciate, your concern. Even if it is unfounded.”

So he’ll take a break? You ask him hopefully.

Galekh sets you down on the carpet, covertly checks that you’ve got your bearings, and sighs. “I suppose it  _ is _ time to feed my lusus…”

The growing smile on your face threatens to rip it in two. Galekh scoffs and you and stalks passed you towards the baby gate at the entrance to this office. Not quickly, mind you, but powered by the same sort of purpose he puts into things he’s passionate about. It’s endearing, if you’re being honest. The tips of his ears look a little bit blue.

“Well, don’t just stand there! This is your idea after all. I expect you to make this ‘break’ worth my time.”

You scamper after him with a little extra pep in your step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been brought to you by my cats, who did not want it to be written. This is also dedicated to all the creatives out there! Remember to take breaks and give yourself credit where credit is due.
> 
> This chapter had a lot of ups and downs writing it. Like, a weird amount that I did not expect from the Galekh chapter. Ultimately though, I think I'm happy with how it turned out. Sometimes it's important to just accept when something is done and not try and bog it down with anything extra, y'know?
> 
> Thanks for reading this week!


	4. Lynera - A Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zZz_BUZZING_zZz: omg im zo excited i might actually die  
> zZz_BUZZING_zZz: i cant believe thiz iz happening  
> oWildoWisp: [] -i knoW! this is very !!!exciting!!! []  
> oWildoWisp: [] - Where are you? []  
> zZz_BUZZING_zZz: im almozt there zee you zoon :)

The moons of Alternia hang low in the sky. Beneath their twin, shining rays, your scuttlebuggy chugs along through the outskirts of Thrashurst. It’s quiet this far out; you passed a single troll trying to get a ride and you haven’t seen a soul since. You were always paranoid about picking up hitchhikers, back on Earth. You’ve been bolder since landing on Alternia. You were not, however, THAT bold.

You glance drowsily at your phone.

The source of your late night quest.

The text you had received was from a number you didn't recognize. It's tone had been frantic, it's content cryptically mild. A goregle maps location out in the middle of nowhere had been attached. 

**-!!!come here !!!immediately!!!**

It had Lynera written all over it. 

You'd been under the impression that she didn't have a phone, but it wouldn't be the first time you were wrong about this sort of thing. Lynera just seemed a lot more old fashioned than the rest of the jades in the cavern. Maybe she was borrowing a phone? You have a lot of questions. You can’t help but wonder what on Alternia  _ Lynera _ , of all people, was out doing in the middle of nowhere so close to sunrise.

As you drew closer to your destination the answer to that question did not become any clearer.

Signs of life started cropping up alongside the road. Scribbly, handmade signs of life, to be specific, and buggy tracks become plentiful. You squint at the signs as you pass them by. You use your vast knowledge or whatever to translate them. You were getting better at reading Alternian every day, but these signs? Fucking illegible gibberish. Where was Google Translate when you needed it?

Finally, off in the distance, you see something. 

A building crawls into view; it’s squat and hexagonal, a single story but pretty large to compensate for that. As far away as you are you can still make out large, bright, double doors at the front of the building with tiny, inscrutable, candy corns milling in and out in droves. There are scuttlybuggies taking up the whole front of the lot. A largerer, more official looking, significantly more legible sign passes you on the road: 

**_HER IMPERIAL CONVERSION CENTER. DUE FOR DEMOLITION. NO TRESPASSING._ **

You sit up in your seat and whip around to try and read the sign again, but it’s already behind you. You couldn’t have read that right.You turn back around in your seat and lean over your dashboard and look, really **look** , at the location Lynera has sent you to. You’re close enough to make out the trolls milling about out front while they wait to get in. Trolls have weird senses of fashion. You aren’t one to talk, but strictly from an unbiased standpoint, trolls were all over the map.

These trolls that you’re looking at took one look at that map and went ‘totally original character design do not steal’.

You were looking at cosplayers. A horde of cosplayers waiting to get into a convention.

Lynera sent you directions to a goddamn  _ convention _ .

Your scuttlebuggy parks itself snuggly among its brethren. You step out and onto the cracked pavement and really just. Try and make ANY sort of sense of this situation. You couldn’t picture Lynera within 30 miles of this place, let alone somewhere inside the building. Had she come with Wanshi for supervision? ...No, absolutely no way. Had she come to GET Wanshi? That made a little bit more sense.

But then how the fuck did WANSHI get all the way out here?

God you had so many questions. You weren’t going to get any answers until you found Lynera. You shoot the mystery number a quick text to let Lynera know you’re here, you’re outside, and to ask where she is. You pass a few minutes leaning on the hood of your ‘bug and take in the Alternian nerdlife. The line going into the building is thinning out. The line of tired trolls ready to home before the sun rises increases. You have a few short conversations in passing with some cosplayers you recognize from a cult classic anime Tegiri suggested you watch.

Lynera doesn’t text you back. Your phone is silent. You consider messaging Bronya, but her cute Grype avatar is dark. Offline. You heave a tired, harried sigh.

Guess you’re going into the convention center where death probably awaits you. The things you do for FRIENDSHIP.

You weave your way to the front of the line, cleverly cutting ahead and making sure you don’t get your head cut off in the process. Unlike Earth conventions all the weapons people in line are brandishing are super real. There’s no one at the door doing any kind of checks. There’s absolutely no size limit. Why would there be? This was Alternia, death planet extraordinaire

You finally manage to slip by a few trolls dressed in very elaborate lusus costumes and find yourself fully inside the convention. Organized chaos would be putting it politely. It was like someone decided to cross an anime convention with a ren faire, but decided even that was too bland and decided that large, terrifying, caged wild animals would spice the whole shebang up.

You remember the near miss from Wanshi’s fan meet-up and the chlorobear.

Something in your stomach drops and you feel bile rise in your throat. That.. that had sure been a close one. Wow you were so super glad you totally didn’t get yourself or a child murdered by a giant space bear! Like, wow, could you even imagine how totally awful and traumatizing that would have been? Aahaha…

Haha…

Ha………...

You need to find Lynera. 

You need to find her now. You pull your phone out of your pocket to see if she’s texted you back. She hasn’t. You try and call her. It rings and it rings and it rings before you’re greeted by Wanshi’s voice cheerily telling you to call back later. You shove your phone into your pocket and delve into the thick of it. You were starting to run low on night light. Maybe, if the stars were in alignment, your innate sense of dumb luck would kick in before sunrise.

“OMG!!!”

Or right now. Right now is also totally fine with you. 

You turn your head and find yourself meeting the starry eyed gaze of none other than your very good friend Zebede. His entire stout, little body is hauling loads and loads of fan merch. He’s clearly overencumbered and can’t run to meet you, but it’s very clear he wants to. You do him a solid and meet him 3/4ths of the way. He is clutching a sexy Cirava body pillow in his arms and peeking at you from around it.

THAT'S gonna be the centerpiece of your nightmares for awhile.

Zebede gawks at you like you’re the most amazing thing he’s seen in his life, “I had no idea you were going to bee here! You didn’t say anything on your Chittr!!!” Zebede gasps, and then his face falls. “Omg did you? Oh no, did I miss it? You totally did say something and I just missed it, oh no...” 

You switch friendship gears. You patiently explain that, no, Zebede didn’t miss any announcements from you. You didn’t even know this con was happening! If you did, he would have been the first to know you planned on attending. You’ve been pretty busy and haven’t been keeping up to date on most of your social media. You were glad to run into him, but you were actually just here to pick a friend up!

Before you have the chance to ask if Zebede has seen Lynera anywhere, he interrupts you. “Oh, you’re meeting someone…” he says. He hugs his body pillow closer for comfort ( _ Cirava you’re so sorry you don’t want this to be happening either please have mercy _ ). “I wish I had someone to drive me home. Or just to go to a con like this with… I was supposed to meet my really good friend oWildoWisp here for the first time IRL, but…” Zebede’s lip trembles. He looks about ready to cry.

Normally, this would be where you say something nice or encouraging. But the username Zebede drops strikes something in your brain. Like when you find the key piece that allows you to finish the puzzle with a clear idea of the picture. You ask Zebede if he means the WildWisp-  _ ahem, oWildoWisp _ \- who writes Soldier Purrbeast fanfic.

“Yeah! Do you know them?” Zebede asks. His mood does a 180 in a heartbeat. “I don’t read Soldier Purrbeast stuff really. I was waaaay more of a Wrigglers Horrifically Transforming Into Their Lusii and Saving the Empire fan when I was younger. But oWildoWisp really has a lot of talent! We don’t have a lot of fandoms in common, but we stay up late talking about all sorts of stuff!”

Was Wan- WildWisp still around here somewhere? They’re actually who you’re here to pick up.

An uncharacteristic scowl finds its way onto Zebede’s face. “They’re not here,” he grumbles. “I was SUPPOSED TO meet them here. We messaged a bunch and set up a meet-up point over in the writer’s alley and everything! But when I got there…”

Oh. Oh, you know exactly where this is going.

Let me guess, you say. Zebede got here and went to meet oWildoWisp and was met instead by an angry female troll with green lipstick, glasses, and a knife?

“Woah…” Zebede breaths out in awe. “How did you know?”

Lucky guess. Did he happen to know where said knife wielding troll was at? 

“I left her over in writer’s alley,” Zebede says with a shrug. “I wasn’t going to let her ruin this for me.”

You politely thank Zebede and wish him a safe journey home. When he asks where you’re off to in such a rush you lie and say you’re grabbing something for OwildOwisp since they couldn’t make it. He accepts that with a nod, adjusts the body pillow in his arms ( _ why was the empty eye socket so sexualized you don’t understand WHY??????? _ ), and points you in the direction of all the stuff he thinks Wanshi would like.

“Just be careful, though!” he warns. “That imposter oWildoWisp might still be over that way.”

You promise Zebede you’ll be careful and bid him farewell.

You immediately make a beeline for Lynera’s last known whereabouts.

You’re mired in doujins in no time. Wow, Alternia sure treated their fanfiction writers a lot better than Earth did. A whole entire section for them! Everyone here was being so respectful and nice. There were stalls selling actual, self-published books of fanfic and bargaining over ships. What a world. You can faintly hear Lynera screaming over the din of convention noises.

“-Are you deaf? I said don’t COME NEAR ME!”

Ah geez. Not actually that faintly.

You round the corner of a booth with fancy pens and stationary. That’s when you spot her: Lynera up on her tip-toes, face to face and fangs to fangs with a blue blooded security officer. A very tired, very fed up looking security officer with a  **very** large, very  **bloody** sword in his hands. It makes Lynera’s knife look like a toy by comparison. Does Lynera think she actually stands a chance in a fight with this guy? Or is she too pissed off to realize she’s in danger? You aren’t going to wait to find out. Time to bust out  _ How to Calm Down Trolls 101. _

You throw yourself into spectacle and push through the growing crowd.

You latch onto Lynera’s knife arm. You use your momentum and meager human weight to tug her back from the blue blood. Like a goddamn fucking PRO you turn Lynera so she’s facing you and  _ firmly _ place a hand on her cheek. Lynera’s irises, formerly pin pricks of rage, go  _ wide _ . Every ounce of tension leaves her body. Her cheeks BLAZE green. A high, scandalized noise starts up in the back of her throat.

She predictably opens her mouth to yell at you.

You shush her.

Lynera snaps her mouth shut with an audible  _ clack _ . 

You pat Lynera’s cheek a few extra times for good measure. A few additional shushes. After you’re mostly positive she isn’t going to explode you turn to face the security guard. The guard is staring at you with wide eyes and bright blue blush. Ugh, you forgot about trolls and their sensitive sensibilities. You keep your arm looped with your  **friend’s** and give him your best unimpressed look. You apologize for Lynera’s behavior and explain that you can take it from here. The guard opens his mouth, closes it, and settles for a baffled sort of nod before he leaves.

Well! That was easy. Way to use awkward social situations to your advantage once again. You do your best to ignore the hoards of trolls staring at you and turn your attention back to Lynera. Is she doing okay? Has she calmed down?

Lynera stares at you, dazed. Oh, shit, did you bust out the shoosh paps too hard? Is that a thing can happen? Did you break her? Lynera? You call her name gently.

That seems to do the trick. Lynera blinks at you owlishly, seems to realize something, and screeches, “Let GO of me!” You politely oblige and step out of Lynera’s personal space. She immediately pulls you right back in and begins fervently whispering, “What TOOK you so long? Do you have ANY idea the kind of disturbing individuals I’ve had to deal with? All of them STARING at me like I’M the one doing something wrong?”

You do not have the energy to explain convention etiquette to Lynera. You tell her instead you tried to call when you got here and it took a while to find her when you didn’t get a response.

She lets out a huff, “Wanshi’s palm husk died.That’s not MY fault.”

Since when did Wanshi have a palm husk, anyways?

“LANQUE bought her one even though Bronya SPECIFICALLY SAID that she was too young!” Lynera growls. “I confiscated it, of course! And you know what I find? Strange trolls! She’s messaging strange trolls who probably want to take her away from the caverns! And do terrible, awful things with her because she’s a jade!”

So Lynera took the most reasonable course of action and set up a meeting with one of these strangers in a place she’s never been before. Out in the middle of nowhere.

She nods excitedly. “See! I knew you would understand,” her smile turns vicious, triumphant. “I met up with that zZz_BUZZING_zZz SCUM and gave him a piece of my! Mind! He'll never bother Wanshi again if he wants to keep his head attached to his neck!”

Uh huh. Right. You raise an eyebrow at her. So why did she call you out here if she so clearly had everything under control?

"I! Well!" Lynera crosses her arms defensively. She tugs on her lower lip with her teeth. "Well...I…"

Well? 

"...I was afraid," she admits with a sigh. Lynera peeks at you over the top of her glasses. "After I was done yelling at that troll I was at a loss about what to do next. And there were so many PEOPLE around. I just… panicked."

Lynera blushes and looks away. It does SOMETHING to your heart. You’d be hard pressed to be able to identify what.

“You were the first person that came to mind,” Lynera tells you. Earnest. Warm and hesitant. She carefully stashes her knife away and reaches out to take your hands in hers. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Yeah. Yeah, of course, any time. There went your ability to speak in proper sentences.

“OH MY GOD GET A FUCKING ROOM.”

Oh. Right, you were still super in public. 

You feel Lynera reeling back to raise hell and start screaming. You don’t know if you’ve got it in you to calm her down again. You take Lynera by the hand and you  **pull** . It kind of feels like you’re wrangling an uncooperative dog by the leash. You pointedly remind Lynera she needs to get back to the caverns. YOU wanted to get home and get some sleep. You were done dealing with trolls for the night. It takes a little bit of doing and at least one threat to ditch your friend, but you successfully get the pair of you out of the writer’s alley.

You’ve been walking for a bit before you notice that Lynera has fallen in step with you. She clings to your side and holds your hand gently between both of hers. Fearful like a lost child, yet ready to strike anyone who so much as looks at you funny.

You lead the way through the convention. You don’t remember exactly where the exit is. You probably should have paid more attention while you were scurrying around. Whoops! All these booths sure start to look the same after awhile. And as nice as it was to walk around with Lynera the sun was going to be rising sooner rather than later. You REALLY didn’t want to be stuck in a building overday with some of these trolls. Or any of them really.

“Well, I’ll be! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

God fucking bless your perfectly timed internal monologue. Someone out there HAD to be keeping an ear to the ground for you. You spot her sandwiched between a stand filled to the brim with uncomfortably large pectoraled hoofbeast prints and a shop that seemed to be only selling Furby related merchandise. Her barely legal style stands out against a backdrop of originality.

Remele!

You change course and steer Lynera over, hurriedly whispering ‘it’s ok she’s a friend!’

Lynera’s still a bundle of nerves when you stop in front of your favorite cerulean artist. She clutches your hand in a death grip. You feel her nails dig into your skin; not enough to hurt, really, but enough to notice. You decide to pretend you don’t notice for the time being. You happily introduce the two of them and pay no mind to the fact that there’s two whole caste levels between them. Remele is exceptionally chill for a cerulean.

Just as you expected, Remele leans over her table and offers her hand to Lynera, “Always nice to meet a friend of a friend.”

Lynera looks at Remele’s hand like it personally came into her room, shat on her desk, and bleated like a goat at her. Her hands do not leave yours. You’ve been working with Lynera, bit by bit, on not verbally tearing into every single person she meets on sight. And she was getting better! But she still struggled, sometimes. Baby steps. Wriggler steps.

“Charmed,” Lynera says tightly. 

Progress was still progress. Your heart wells up just a little bit with pride.

Remele takes Lynera’s cold shoulder in stride and uses her outstretched hand to gesture to her wares. “I’ve got a whole slew of prints and sculptures I can never get to sell at any of my hoity-toity highblood shows on sale. I also…" she gestures over to the other side of her stall with a wink. The ENTIRE side wall is bogged down with plushies. Remele grins,“...have PLENTY of exclusive merchandise I cooked up just for today! So go ahead and take a look around. If you see anything you like, I  _ might _ just let you talk me into giving you a friendly discount.”

Huh. You turn back to Remele. Did she make all those herself? you ask. You had no idea she could sew! Lynera is still pretty distracted by the plushie wall in the corner of your eye, but you don’t pay it a lot of mind. You didn't look all that closely. Maybe Lynera had seen something she wanted to get for Bronya, or Wanshi.

“I’m a woman of many talents,” Remele boasts, preening.

That she is. Oh, wait, actually, if she has a minute, would Remele mind helping you and Lynera out?

“Oh?” Remele leans forward on her sales table, cheek in her palm. “What can I help you with? So long as it’s mostly legal and not too far away from my stand.”

Could she point you towards the exit?

She stares at you. Blinks. And barks out a laugh. “Is that all?” Remele asks, grinning. “That’s no problem at all! Give me just one-”

“Are you SERIOUSLY not going to SAY ANYTHING to her!?” 

Lynera’s shrill screech is harsh on your ears. You try and cringe back from it, but her grip on you is like a vice. You whip your head to look at her.

Lynera is staring daggers at Remele. Remele, in turn, very quickly gets over her surprise and has simply raised an eyebrow at Lynera. 

Say anything to WHO about WHAT, Lynera?

“This BITCH,” Lynera bites out. She jabs an accusing finger at Remele and swings it to the side with the same amount of vitriol. “About THAT!”

You follow Lynera’s movement. You frown, confused. About… the plushie wall? You need to talk to Remele about her plushies more?

Lynera snarls from somewhere deep in her ribcage and hauls you closer to where she’s pointing. “This! I’m talking about this! You aren’t going to let her get away with this, are you?!”

You cast a quick, apologetic look Remele’s direction before you focus your full attention on the wall. You scan the whole thing, top to bottom, twice. It’s on your second pass that you spot it. Sticking out just a little from underneath a bunch of generic lusii. I t’s not all that big; were it not for the shock of black on it you don’t think you would have noticed it under the sea of white. It’s also not necessarily SMALL either. It was a good hugging size.

It was a good, huggably sized plushie of  **you** .

_ Awwwwwwwwwww _ .

You tell Lynera you don’t see what the problem is.

“Don’t see what the- This is illegal!!” Lynera lets go of you entirely for the first time since you found her. She gestures furiously at the Tiny You on the wall. “She’s selling your face! She’s making money! Off of you! Without your permission! TELL me you’re not okay with that!”

You look at Lynera. At the fury contorting her face, at her hands balled tightly at her sides, and at the pleading look in her eyes that says more than any word that’s come out of her mouth in the past few minutes. You sigh. You ask Remele politely if that is, in fact, a cute toy version of you.

“Nope,” she says, popping the P. The look she gives you is a knowing one. And a little too teasing in your opinion. “You ARE my muse, don’t get me wrong. But that little friend? They're just a cute little alien I whipped up for the people. I think that’s my last one, actually.”

Lynera makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a gag. “How many of these disgusting things did you  _ make? _ ”

_ Hey _ now, you think it’s pretty cute.

“You and everyone else,” Remele chimes in. She’s got a smile on her face, now; all coy like she knows something. “That whole wall was all stuffed alien friends toys when I set up shop today. That one was the most popular variation of it. It’s got a little customizable sweater.” 

Lynera stiffens. You watch, frozen with shock, as she lunges bodily over Remele’s display table. Like a tightly wound coil that has finally had enough and decided to just fucking snap. She brutally digs her nails into poor little Tiny You and rips them off the wall with a loud  _ snap _ of plastic. You wince. Remele startles to attention.

“I don’t even see what the appeal of this would be!” Lynera sneers. She stands back up primly and glares down at Plush You in her claws. Tiny Plush You smiles serenely back. “It’s just a cheap, poorly crafted toy! As if you could even compare it to the real deal. Only a pervert! Would want something like this! Just thinking about someone HOLDING this in their arms at night makes me want to GAG! It’s not even that soft! And the sweater has a loose thread!”

Well now she was just being persnickety.

Remele leans over the table to whisper conspiratorially to you, “I’ll sell you that thing for half-price if you get this crazy bitch away from my stall.”

You sigh tiredly. Deal. Can you pay her later?

“I’ll make an exception for you,” she says, just a little louder, because Lynera’s rant has grown in volume. Remele jerks her head to the side. “Exit’s thataway.”

Cool. 

You stride over to Lynera, snatch Tiny Plush You out of her hands (oh wow, it’s so soft, goddamn), and grab her by the hand again. Whatever she was saying is cut off by an indignant sputter. When is she going to realize that your audacity has no bounds? You say bye to Remele and yank Lynera towards the exit. She complains the entire way to the parking lot. In fact she complains even as you are pulling out of the parking lot and well into your drive back to the caverns.

You let her get it out of her system.

When Lynera quiets, finally, you look over to check on her.

She looks… soft. She runs her thumb over the tiny, fabric head of Tiny Fabric You with an exceptional tenderness. She adjusts their sweater over their teeny arms and gently, oh so gently, brings one of their tiny hands up to her cheek. It’s more endearing than it has any right to be. If it was anyone but Lynera, you would be uncomfortable.

But it’s Lynera.

You cough. 

Lynera blushes and drops the doll into her lap. “I wasn’t doing anything!!!”

Yeah, okay. You won't call her out on being adorable. You let Lynera know that you’re gonna catch some Z’s while the scuttlebuggy navigates back. You SHOULD make it back before the sun rises. But if you don’t, she needs to wake you up so you can try and remember how to activate the sun shields.

Lynera looks out the window. You follow her gaze to the setting moons on the horizon, backed by the slowly lightening sky.

“I’m sorry I kept you out so late…” she mumbles apologetically. She picks up Tiny Plush You close and hugs them close. “I’m… I’m sorry I’m such a handful all the time. I’m trying to be better.”

You remind her that she IS getting better.

Lynera shakes her head. “I’m not good enough yet!” She pulls her legs up onto the seat and wraps her arms around them. Tiny Plush You peeks out from behind her knees. “I cause you so much trouble. But you’re always there to support me, and you try so hard to take care of me. I would be so lost without you. I’ve never… I’ve never  _ had _ anyone like you, before. I’m so scared I’m going to mess this up.”

The air between you gets heavier. Heavy with unsaid words and unsaid implications. You take a deep breath. 

What about Bronya?

Lynera is dead silent. For a moment the only thing you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears and the clatter of the scuttlebuggy’s legs against the road.

“This is different from what Bronya and I have,” she says finally. Lynera meets your eyes across the center console and smiles, truly  _ smiles _ in a way that makes the skin around her eyes crinkle. “What we have is mutual, isn’t it?”

That… That is a loaded question.

You do not know how to answer that question. Not right now. Potentially not ever. Your exhausted brain kicks into overdrive. You can’t let this silence hang between you, but when you open your mouth nothing comes out. Tiny Plush You stares at you mockingly from Lynera’s lap.

Your phone starts ringing.

The silence cracks like an egg and you seize it. You answer the call.

Bronya’s voice flows out of the speaker. She's polite as ever despite the underlying panic in her tone, “Hello! Is this the alien? It’s Bronya! Have you seen or heard from Lynera tonight? At all?”

A beat of awkward silence passes.

“Uhm… Hi, Bronya!” Lynera answers in your stead.

An additional, less awkward beat.

The relief in Bronya’s voice when she speaks is palpable, “Oh, thank goodness. You didn’t take your palmhusk with you when you left again! No one in the caves knew where you went! I was so worried.”

Lynera blushes and mumbles a few shy apologies. You assure Bronya that Lynera has been in good hands and you’re returning her to the caves.

“You'd better be! Do you have any idea what time it is?” You hear Bronya sigh on the other end of the line. “What were the two of you even doing?”

“Nothing!!!” Lynera cries out defensively. 

You can’t help it. You laugh.

It’s a long story, Bronya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! This one was a bit of a doozy to work on, I hope you guys liked it! I've had that end scene planned in my head for quite a while. Getting there proved difficult, but we made it! Some parts of this aren't as strong as I would like them to be, and a lot of them feel a little extra rambley, but I think it turned out alright. Lynera is VERY fun to write ngl.
> 
> Hey WhatPumpkin: get the fuck on making MSPA Reader plushies I needed 12 of them yesterday.


	5. Boldir - A Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #ExistentialDread.jpeg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, folks! The world sure has been something else the past month, hasn't it? I hope you're all doing well out there! Thanks for sticking with me!

You weren’t a fan of Jeff Foxworthy back on Earth.

You picked him up via cultural internet osmosis. Y'know, as you do. You watched a few of his specials. But honestly? His style of comedy just wasn’t your jam. There wasn’t anything really wrong with it, probably. Stereotype based humor had never really been your cup of tea. So his ‘you might be a redneck’ bit, his most POPULAR BIT, got stale. Fast. Maybe you just weren’t his target audience. Maybe you just had better taste in memes than a washed up country comedian. Either way, you didn’t see the draw.

You _barely_ thought about Jeff Foxworthy on Earth.

You had ABSOLUTELY NOT thought about Jeff Foxworthy at all since you left Earth.

But at this particular moment, as you’re being carried like an awkward football under the buff, sweaty arm of a bronze-blood you’ve never met, you remember. You hear his voice call out to you from the depths of your memories; unbidden like the twang of a banjo busted over the long dead corpse of a horse:

_If being kidnapped is the least eventful part of your day, you might need to leave Alternia._

But, like, in your defense, everything had happened very quickly. One minute you were minding your own business, out and about on the streets under the afternoon moons. The minute after that you’re making extended eye contact with a short, stocky troll in jogwear who has stopped directly in your path. The minute after _that_ you were being kidnapped. No foreplay, no indication of what was going on. You were just very suddenly being carried like a bag of potatoes back the way you’d come. 

You probably would have struggled more, but you weren't all that worried? Really? You’d been taken in BROAD moonlight with SEVERAL witnesses. Witnesses who had watched, dumbfounded, as you were carried off. A few people had taken their phones out even. If you went missing one of your more technologically inclined friends would find you. You had no doubt about that. But you were _also_ pretty sure this troll had different, non-murdery plans for you Or subtlety just wasn’t on the agenda for the day. It rarely was on Alternia.

Considering how CHATTY your kidnapper is, though, you are 99% sure of your continued life expectancy.

His name was Kiddik and he whistled a little when he spoke. He was extremely happy to answer every question you threw his way with gusto. While you were initially very intimidated by his muscles and his giant, terrifying fangs that CURVED and nearly reached his CHIN, he was a pretty friendly guy. The fangs apparently just meant that he couldn’t open his mouth very wide to talk. He compensated, somehow, by talking _faster_. 

And BOY did he have a lot to say. In order, the things you learned about Kiddik in the approximately ~20 minutes you were with him were:

  * When he wasn’t kidnapping hapless aliens for extra cash, he ran a lusus grooming salon. He rattled off the address so quickly you asked him to repeat it thrice.
  * He ran said salon with his matesprit who he was, and you quote, ‘horns over strutpods’ for, and he proceeded to gush about _them_ for a good 2/3rds of your journey. You now knew more about them than some of your friends.
  * Kiddik liked music and loved to whistle. He proceeded to serenade you for a few blocks.
  * Despite initial appearances, he DID have horns, they were just smaller than the average bronze’s and they were almost hidden in his hair. You could see them poking out under the fluff. Barely.
  * No, he WASN'T self-conscious about his horns at all, THANKS.



For the life of you you couldn’t get a word in edgewise. He was making your head spin.

You never thought you would meet someone on this planet FRIENDLIER than you.

By the time you made it to your destination your brain was too busy reeling with new information to give your surroundings any attention. It takes Kiddik dropping you none too gently to stand next to him, several seconds, and a friendly ‘psst’ to snap you back. 

Boldir waves at you from the booth she’s at. 

Oh, you’re… you’re just at the cafe again? After all that? Huh. Still a little dazed you wave back.

“Here’swhatyouorderedboss!” Kiddik says, slapping you on the shoulder as he does so. Ow.

“Thanks, Kiddik,” Boldir replies. She motions for you to take a seat. You do so shakily. To your kidnapper, she says, “Your payment is under the seventh usual spot.”

Doing his personal interpretation of a grin, Kiddik salutes Boldir, “Thanksforyourbusiness!”

And then he’s gone. Wow, everything suddenly seems so much quieter. Slower, somehow.

“He has quite a loud personality,” Boldir says, seemingly in agreement with your thoughts. “Sorry for kidnapping you.”

A well-timed waitress comes by with a single drink and sets it down in front of you. The scent of coffee hits you _hard_. Your poor self-control makes you immediately take a sip. Predictably you burn your tongue. You do NOT care. Your brain deserves something after what it just endured. You don’t question why Boldir knows your usual order. You just take a few hefty sips of coffee and tell her it’s nice to see her. Because it is! Boldir is probably the friend you see, like, the LEAST because of her stealthy dealings. You kinda missed her.

She stares at you, eyebrows raised. And then she shakes her head in wonder, “Is your entire species as trusting and resilient as you?”

You nurse your coffee with a little more care. It’s still hot, but it's not AS hot, and it fills your chest with warmth as you ponder Boldir’s questions. 

Resilience? Varied, usually. You weren’t actually very sturdy by human standards. Humans in general were pretty frail compared to trolls. Was being trusting a particularly human trait? You guess it really depended on the person. If you were being 100% honest, and you were because it was Boldir you were talking to, you trusted the trolls on Alternia more than you had ever trusted a member of your own species. Trolls were always pretty forward with their intentions and what they wanted out of you. Humans were…

Humans were… Complicated.

“Complicated?” Boldir echoes.

Complicated.

“I see,” she says with a nod. A small lull. “Psst. Would you say you trust me?”

Of course. Why wouldn’t you? You were friends, right?

“We’ve only met a handful of times,” Boldir points out. She doesn’t say it with any sort of malice; just a statement of a fact you both know to be true. She’s watching you with… something, in her eyes. Something you can’t name. “Are we really friends?”

You’re not sure what she’s angling for. Something uncomfortable and wriggling blooms in your chest. Your fingers tap the side of your coffee mug in an anxious rhythm. You THOUGHT the two of you were friends… you would LIKE to be her friend.

Boldir’s eyes narrow. “What if I poisoned you?”

Uh??  
  
“You didn’t check before you drank that. Didn’t test it. What if I had the barista poison your coffee before it was brought out?” she presses. “Would you trust me then?”

You look down at the drink sitting snugly in your hands. You look back to Boldir and notice the lines of tension running through her. Like a bulky, irritated cat. You have absolutely no idea what’s going on. You have _no_ idea what on Alternia might have even set her off. You’ve barely been here five minutes.

DID she poison you?

Boldir doesn’t answer. She stares at you enigmatically. Expectantly. Challengingly. Something petty and defiant rises up in you. You very pointedly take a GIANT gulp of coffee and refuse to break eye contact with her as it burns your throat. The silence stretches between the two of you. You chug the rest of your coffee and _slam_ the mug down on the table. Boldir sits across from you, stone faced. You squint at her and pretend you don’t lowkey wanna vomit. You don’t think Boldir poisoned you. You tell her that you think she’s bluffing.

However, if she HAD poisoned you, you would trust that she had a good reason to.

Because she is your friend.

Whom you TRUST.

Because you are FRIENDS.

Your brazen declaration sits on the table between the two of you. 

Boldir doesn’t falter. She’s chewing on your words. Rolling them over in her brain as she glares across the table at you.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity but is likely less than a minute, the tension leaks out of her. Not all of it. Never all of it. But enough to tell you Boldir got whatever answer she was after. Enough that she cracks a somewhat apologetic smile as she stands from her seat.

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” she asks with a curious tilt of her head.

With that single question the tension seeps out of you, too. Even with all the caffeine jonesing around in your system you feel calmer now that she’s calmer. You stand up to join Boldir, and hesitate. Is it safe to be walking around out in the open? Doesn’t she have people after her? Like, ALL the people? The memory of Boldir in your arms, the life fading out of her eyes sits squarely at the forefront of your mind.

Boldir smiles at you. There really is just something about her smile that makes your anxiety vanish. “I think if I’m with you, everything will be fine,” she says. “But we’ll be sticking to the back alleys.”

With that assurance you follow Boldir out the back of the cafe with no hesitation.

True to her words the two of you never cross a street. Boldir leads you through the winding, hidden maze that makes up the interior of Outglut. The guts of Outglut, if you would. Places you never knew existed. You hop a few fences. Cut through a couple shady buildings. Hide while a drone passes above your heads. Backtrack once or twice. 

It’s thrilling, in an odd way. Comforting in an even odder way. Boldir knows what she’s doing and she knows how to do it well. You feel safer with Boldir, traipsing around the grunge filled back alleys, than you have in quite awhile. Safer than in the hives of your highest highblooded friends. You spend more time watching Boldir work and watching your backs than you do chatting. It's really nice. 

It’s a serene, uncomplicated silence.

“Psst. This way,” Boldir gets your attention in her usual way. She hops off an edge you didn’t even realize you were walking along and gestures for you to follow her down. “We’re almost there.”

You had no idea she had a destination in mind. You are, however, as always, down for anything. You jump down with significantly less grace, but still manage to nail the landing. Boldir looks at you a moment, pondering, before she holds up five of her fingers with a decisive nod. It takes half a second for thr meaning to reach you.

 _Hey_ , your landing was _totally_ worth more than five points!

She raises an eyebrow at you. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. You _are_ getting better at not falling on your face.”

You jut your lip out in a childish pout. Boldir pats you consolingly on the shoulder. “As with all things, you’ll only get better with practice.”

Is she telling you to jump off ledges more often?

“Well, when you phrase it like that,” she says with a roll of her eyes. You can’t help but snicker a little. Boldir inclines her head down the path you’re now on in quiet askance. You gesture for her to lead the way with a dramatic, ‘by all means’ wave of your hand. The smile that alights on her face is a small, fond one. 

The ground beneath you begins to gradually slope downwards the further you walk. Not enough to inhibit you in any way. Just a very gentle decline. At the end of it is a very large, concrete wall with a small, inky black hole at the base. Your destination, you would have to guess. You say that because the walls surrounding you are too high to climb now and there’s literally nowhere else for you to go. Boldir crouches and enters the hole soundlessly. Not wanting to be left behind you follow suit. It’s crunchier than expected.

This must have been some old, abandoned drainage canal, you think. It’s bone dry now. Were you near the ocean? A lake, perhaps? There was nothing left in it but the stale scent of debris long since left behind by the water that once carried it. It was almost poetic. The water meant to carry all this detritus to its final destination had left it behind. Just like life kept moving on, regardless of whether or not you were still keeping up. Everyone was just along for the ride until you fell out of the flow. Left to be picked up again later or trampled later by those who came after.

Damn. That was deep. You wish you had said literally any of that out loud. It just might have been insightful enough to impress Boldir. But the tunnel was widening, now, and so was the light at the end of it. Your chance is carried away in the stream of missed opportunities.

Boldir stops just before the end and holds her arm out to make sure you stop, too. You have to close your eyes against the sudden change in light. The salty scent of the sea greets your nose; carried on a clean, crisp breeze. You blink a few times to try and make your eyes adjust faster. Beside you, Boldir hunkers down to take a seat. You hear a faint clunking noise as she does. You squint determinedly until the haze in your vision clears.

The dark, shimmering purple of Alternia’s oceans expands before your eyes. It is hard to put into words the wonder the view instills. You’ve been confined within the limits of the city for a long time; where the edges are defined clear, so clearly, and you can always see where everything ends. Even in the outskirts, even in the countryside, there was a very definitive end to everything. 

This is not your first time seeing the ocean.

But seeing an ocean, after having been limited by the industrial sprawl for so long… it was an experience. You would believe it if someone told you, right this second, that you were on the only landmass on the planet and the ocean never ended. You take a seat next to Boldir, speechless. Your legs dangle off the edge of the pipe. Waves crash beneath you. Seafoam gently brushes the tips of your sneakers. In the surface of the rippling ocean the moons are nothing more than colorful splotches.

You bask in the feeling. The quiet, simple wonder of it.

_Wow._

“Psst,” Boldir’s hiss is almost lost in the sounds of the ocean. “I have a hypothetical question for you. Would you care to hear it?”

You know for a fact that 80% of Boldir’s hypothetical questions tend to amount to something far beyond your meager understanding of the world. So, of course, you tell her you would absolutely love to ponder the unknowable with her. What’s she got on her mind?

“Say you were to meet a troll who looked exactly like me,” Boldir starts.

Okay. You’re following her so far.

“This troll is exactly like me in every way. All of the same life experiences that ultimately culminated in the troll I am today,” she pauses, dramatically, and holds up a finger, “except for one thing.”

You turn your head from the ocean, your curiosity piqued. Boldir, in turn, has turned to look at you as well. But somehow… it feels a little like she’s looking past you. Through you, somewhere… deeper. Further away, like she’s talking to you… but not You. You, but not you. It’s a hard look to put into words.

“This troll, who is at their very core just an exact copy of me… has never met you,” Boldir says. “They have no idea who you are. They’re not your friend. They might even think you’re a threat. What would you do, if you met a troll like that?”

So… wait. You make a face as you try and get the exact nature of her question down. 

So. Hypothetically.

“Yes,” Boldir nods.

You meet a version of Boldir who’s never met you in her life. Basically, like, an alternate universe version of Boldir from a universe where your paths never crossed. 

“Correct.”

What would you do if you met her? Really? Like it's not super obvious?

Boldir raises an expectant eyebrow at you.

You would try and be her friend, duh.

The laugh that escapes Boldir at your answer is a quiet one. Just a single, airy chuckle that’s almost lost to the waves. “Of course that’s your answer,” she says. “Would you prefer that version of me, over the one you know?”

You don't really understand the question. You can't imagine you would prefer one Boldir to another. Wouldn’t she and the other Boldir still basically be the same person at the end of the day?

“Maybe so,” she says. She takes her hat off and sets it in her lap. “What makes an individual? Our ability to think independently? Or is it our memories? Our experiences? The perceptions imposed on us by the people in our lives? The influence of those people?"

Boldir looks at you with a curious tilt of her head. "Would it really be a stretch to say that this hypothetical troll and I are two separate people? An individual who has been influenced by you. And an individual who hasn't. One single, defining moment that changed them forever."

Well, when she puts it like that, you think you kind of get it. Almost? It's still a little over your head. You guess you would absolutely prefer to have YOUR Boldir. The one you met first.

“And what if you didn’t have a choice?” she asks quietly. “If we were never able to meet again. Would you remember me as the individual I was? Or would you let your memories of me bleed over into the troll you had at hand until we were one in the same?”

This… is a very, highly specific line of hypothetical questioning. Is there something she wants to talk about, not hypothetically? Is she okay?

Boldir smiles at you. Something shifts in her eyes, just a hair. It's enough that you're sure she’s back with you on this plane of existence. “I just think it’s an interesting scenario to consider.”

Boldir turns her face back towards the endless horizon. You wait for just a moment, never truly sure when she’s done talking, before you scoot a little closer to her. You lean gently on her shoulder, mindful of guns. You kick your feet just to have something to do. Not knowing the answer to her question makes you anxious. What WOULD you do in that hypothetical and totally impossible scenario? What would be different? Would you even miss the Boldir you’re talking to if you had an almost exact copy of her? 

Your heart clenches.

It hurts to think about. The idea of never, ever seeing one of your dear friends again. And seeing someone walking around who looks just like them, but isn't? You don't want to ever have to deal with that hypothetical scenario.

You tell Boldir very quietly that you would miss her very dearly if you lost her and she was replaced by an alternate universe version of herself that had never met you.

It's a bit of a mouthful of a confession.

“Can I ask why?” Boldir inquires, eyebrows raising. She doesn't judge you for rambling. She doesn’t ask in a way that makes it seem like she’s personally invested in your answer. Merely curious about your thoughts, as though she’d asked you about the local politics. 

You open your mouth. Close it, turn over the words you want to say in your head so you have them right in the order you want them. 

Sure, you tell her. You love making friends. And you would do your absolute damndest to befriend every single alternate universe Boldir you ever stumbled across. You’re sure they’re all as equally great as the one you know! But they would never, ever replace the Boldir sitting with you right here and right now. Those versions of Boldir never hacked your phone just to say hi. They didn’t teach you how to pick-pocket, you didn’t haphazardly save their lives, they wouldn’t have a scale for how awful your landing skills were, you wouldn’t have any of the same in-jokes with them.

None of those Boldirs would know your coffee order.

It’s the tiny things like that that make a difference. That make your Boldir YOURS. No one could replace THAT. Not even if you met and befriended a thousand Boldirs. You would never, ever forget about _her_. She's your irreplaceable friend. Your Boldir. No matter what.

Boldir makes a choked, breathy noise. She goes rigid for an instant; leaning heavily against your shoulder you’re terrified that something terrible has happened. A quiet huff of laughter escapes her. Boldir tries to stifle it with her hand. But it happens again. Then another, and another after that, until she’s full on giggling hard enough to make her shoulders shake. Boldir’s laugh is just as quiet and breathy as her usual tone of voice, but there’s something so _pure_ about it. Unhindered by the weight she normally carries. The only words you can think to describe it is ‘giddy disbelief’.

For the first time since you met her all of the tension _vanishes_ from Boldir’s body. 

You wish she could be like this all the time.

You wish she could smile like this without being afraid.

You're torn between laughing with her or crying for her.

As Boldir quiets down, a new feeling settles over the both of you like an odd, new blanket. Not uncomfortable, but different. A new level of familiarity. The shared knowledge of a secret. It feels like you’re not allowed to be here, with her, but you would trade everything in your life to stay here with her forever. Just you, Boldir, and the endless possibilities of the ocean stretching out eternally at your feet.

“I’ve never shared this place with anyone,” Boldir whispers to you. She tosses you a shy glance out of the corner of her eye. “It’s where I come when I want to be alone. But you are my friend. I trust you with its location and hope that it may bring you the same solace it grants me.”

Warmth floods your chest and the empty, awful hole that’s normally there soaks it up like the nasty sponge it is. Oh. Ohhhh no you’re really gonna cry. You take a short, hasty breath and do your damndest keep your composure. You don’t trust yourself to not say something stupid. Like your dumbass voice would ruin the moment. Boldir reaches out and tenderly takes your hand in hers. It’s warmer than you expected. Dammit you JUST said you weren’t gonna cry.

“It scares me, how much I trust you,” Boldir admits. “And it scares me how easily you trust. I envy how much faith you have in the good of people you’ve just met.”

You school your heart beat. Take another breath. You tell Boldir about an old Earth adage: that strangers are just friends you haven’t met.

You don’t see Boldir roll her eyes, but somehow you feel it. You DO see her grab the top of her hat just before she shoves your face into it. Her hat is SURPRISINGLY crinkley. Is that… tin foil?

"You should be more careful who you trust here. You aren't on Earth anymore," Boldir is saying as you right her hat on top of your head. It's still a little warm. Somehow, Boldir has already produced an exact replica of her hat from SOMEWHERE and it's back on her head. "Just because I didn't poison you doesn't mean someone else won't."

You frown thoughtfully. You do your best to be careful, but throwing safety to the wind in the name of friendship is kind of your THING at this point. That's how you've met almost every single one of your friends INCLUDING Boldir. And it hasn't killed you YET.

" _Yet_ ," Boldir scoffs. She shakes her head, her mouth set in a straight, stubborn line. "I know I can't make you give up on your friendship endeavors. But will you at least keep the hat on you when you go out? Please?"

Is it a special hat? You ask curiously. Besides being special because Boldir gave it to you, you mean.

"It it lined with a special substance that blocks out celestial interference," she informs you proudly. She taps the side of her nose and winks. "It will also keep you safe from any unruly ceruleans you might run into."

Huh. You have NO idea what she means by 'celestial interference', but you do know a thing or do about the cerulean blood caste. You quietly thank Boldir and reach up to run your finger along the brim of the hat. Besides the tin foil it doesn't really seem special in any way. But Boldir made it, and she gave it to you, and that means more to you than anything else.

Boldir settles against you, satisfied with your answer. Her warmth leeches into you and goes straight to your heart. You lean back into her, just a little, and hope you can do the same.

An ocean of endless choices and possibilities sits before both of you.

Maybe you'll try and be a little more cautious with those choices in the future.

For Boldir's sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever think about the fact that the Boldir we're gonna meet in HiveSwap Act 2 is not going to technically be the same Boldir we met in FriendSim? I think about it probably too much.
> 
> Pales In Comparison Fun Facts Volume #1: Boldir wasn't originally in in the Pales in Comparison lineup! I don't really actually ship her with anyone, tbh, beyond "I feel like they get along in theory". But while I was hashing out the EXACT trolls I wanted for this and weeding out who I didn't think would work, or who I didn't have very strong ideas for, I ended up a troll short of the number I wanted to work with. Which I would have been fine with! But I thought back on Boldir while I was outlining and I kinda just realized "fuck, I really want to write Boldir. she's my fave". And if there was ANYONE she might end up pale for... it would probably be MSPA Reader. So here we are! Sometimes you just gotta do what makes you smile. My timeline now. 
> 
> Kiddik, for anyone at home who's curious, is one of the six trolls I made up for this fic. If you're curious about him I wrote up a general character description over on my twitter
> 
> https://twitter.com/lilcubesntea/status/1246404772674129921?s=19
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
